


Who would've guessed?

by Alwaysandoforeverafangirl



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Annie Cresta - Freeform, Character Death, F/M, Hunger Games, Love, Madness, Original Character Death(s), Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alwaysandoforeverafangirl/pseuds/Alwaysandoforeverafangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is always someone screaming. It doesn't matter where you are or who you are or what is happening,  there is always someone screaming. Today it's me.<br/>Annie's story from her reaping to the end of mockingjay possibly further. Im really bad at summarys just please read. Contains spoilers so if you haven't read the hunger games trilogy do not read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who would've guessed?

Chapter 1.

There is always someone screaming. It doesn't matter where you are or who you are or what is happening,  there is always someone screaming. Today it's me.i always knew having my name drawn was a possibility, that it could happen. That even though there are hundreds of names in that bowl, my name has always been one of them.i knew, i just never really beleived it. I believe it now. I am standing in a crowd of girls my age,some of whom are giving me sympathetic glances.most, though, are avoiding my eye, because we were friends. Most of these girls know my name, and that will haunt them forever. I can't say i blame them. It's not like I've ever volunteered. A part of me wishes someone would, though. The small part of me that is selfish and would rather someone else died than i did.i ignore it. Slowly, i step forward and take small steps towards the stage.  In our house there has always been a plan if you are chosen.it comes to me now. _no one is to volunteer. Not ever. If you are chosen, you will fight in the games. And you will win. Walk with your head high, sway your hips but don't be too provacative. You want them to like you not want you. Your voice can't shake or quaver, but you can look slightly frightened. You need sympathy, not to look like a woos._ my mother's family had been following this plan for as long as we know. As far as i know, no one has ever had to use it.until now. My head is high as i walk to the stage, faking confidence i don't have. I'm almost there when i hear a small sob behind me. My little sister is  standing at the very front, hand over her mouth, eyes watering as she tries to cry as quietly as she possibly can. She's twelve, but looking at her she barely looks ten. All thoughts of the games and the capital and the audience and the rules fly out of my head like a bird fleeing a cage as i run to wrap my arms around her. I hear the peacekeepers approaching me to pull me away but it's like they're in a faraway place, their footsteps an echo in my head, vying for my attention and losing it.  


"Shhh, I'll be fine. Mum will keep you safe until i get home. I love you, piglet. Be brave for me, okay?  "  a small, stangled laugh escapes her amongst her tears. I've called her piglet since she was six and she found a baby piglet outside. It made no sense, it being in district four, but she grabbed it and they bonded. I told her mum would want it for fod and she screamed and cried, trying to protect it.as soon as mum saw, we had adopted a new pet. Nothing was allowed to make my sister cry. I stroke her long hair, a few red strands getting stuck in my fingers. She wraps her arms around me and for a few seconds she stops crying. Then the real world comes rushing back and there are peacekeeps pulling me off and i shove their arms away from my sister,  pulling away and marching on to the stage. Already I've broken our rules.  Already i don't care. The woman on stage is dressed in a horrid fluro pink dress that is decorated with lemons.  It's so puffy she looks like a circle.  She grins at me and says in an over the top falsetto 

"Shall we draw the boys?" She struts over the bowl and she reaches and reaches and reaches for the name and instead of focusing on the boy i may end up having to kill i focus on the sky. The beautiful blue sky with wisps of clouds  sneaking in on the edges. The children in front of me that are arranged like animals in a pen.  My position on the stage allows me to see the edge of our beach. I wonder if I'll ever see it again.  Suddenly there's a boy walking up the stairs and there's a sudden quiet that comes over the crowd and i realize I've missed the name of the boy.but i recognize him. he's staring at me with horror and I'm staring right back at him with  a new emotion I've never felt boiling inside of me. Like terror and rage and all other bad emotions have been poured down my throat and allowed to rest in my body. And i am screaming, screaming on the inside  mute on the outside as my brother moves to take his place on the stage next to me.


End file.
